


To You

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anonymity, Fluff, M/M, Past Abuse, and a lot of smut, based in manhattan, brief mentions of payzer and zerrie, harry works in a coffee shop, i wrote this instead of my essay for school, just because i can, like in the end there is a lot of fluff, like ten chapters, not even sorry, self harm recovery, this is just a short story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 12:21:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The letters are always titled ‘To You’ and this stranger knows everything about me. Except for my name.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	To You

**Author's Note:**

> idek what shit this is but it gets better i promise.

    Leaves crunch under Harry’s ‘Madden Tylerr’ Boots as he makes his way down 7th street, narrowly escaping a man biking past at a speed that should not be allowed in public. Gusts of wind that whoosh by are warm and damp, presumably from the shower of rain the city received the night before. It’s almost two in the afternoon, and Harry thinks he should invest in a bicycle or start leaving the apartment earlier, before his boss decides to boot him.

 

    There’s a pounding in his head and an ache in his calves when he pushes open the door to the coffee shop, silently cursing the bell that chimes as he enters- late, as usual-. A familiar head of blonde hair raises, blue eyes wide and cheeks rosy. “Harry!”

 

    “Danielle in?” Asks Harry, slipping from his black peacoat and hanging it on the rack in the corner. Niall shakes his head, wiping the counter down with lazy circles and a wet washcloth. “She says she’ll drop by sometime next week. Ever since she and Liam got together, she doesn’t even care about her workers here.”

 

    Harry snorted, walking behind the counter and into the Employees Only room, where his green apron lay spread across loveseat. He tries not to fidget with it too much once he ties it around his waist, because Niall absolutely hates when he does it. (“They’re just wrinkles, Harry! You’re driving me absolute bonkers. I’m going to glue your hands to your arse if you don’t cut it out.”)

 

    “Oh! I almost forgot, man. The-”

 

    “Like that’s new.”

 

    “-re was a letter lying on the counter when I opened up shop this morning. Bit freaky, because this place was locked shut. And it wasn’t there when I left last night.”

 

    “It was probably there last night, Niall. You most likely overlooked it.”

 

    “Whatever. Anyway, it was addressed “To You” and, like, what the fuck?”

 

    “It was addressed to me?”

 

    “No, you dolt. But it is for you.” Niall skips back through the lounge, just as Harry calls “opening other people’s mail is a federal crime!” back to him. He waltzed back through a few moments later, plain white envelope in hand. “I didn’t know who it was for. But I am 98% positive that it is yours.”

 

    “And you know that how?”

 

    Niall only rolled his eyes, pressing the envelope to Harry’s chest as the bell rang, indicating they had a customer. Harry usually was keen on listening in and eavesdropping on Niall’s attempts to flirt with their lady customers, but this time, everything seemed to drone out as he took out the folded letter. He was only a few words into the first sentence when fingers were snapping in front of his face. “Oi, Styles. Medium Vanilla Mocha with two shots of espresso and extra whipped cream.”

 

    Tucking the letter (and the envelope) into the left back pocket of his jeans for reading later, he grabbed a medium sized paper cup and got to work.

 

**

 

    The clock reads _1:53 am_ whenever Harry wraps a towel around his waist and merges into his bedroom, rummaging through his dresser drawers in search of a pair of pajama pants. He is just shimmying into ones with turtles on them when his door opens, revealing a disgruntled Zayn with massive bedhead. “Seriously, man. Pick up your shit, please. Be glad I didn’t throw this away.” And then the letter and envelope is set on the top of his dresser, and Zayn closes the door quietly behind him.

 

    The clock reads _1:56 am_ whenever Harry sits on the edge of his bed and unfolds the letter for the second time in the past twelve hours.

 

  _“They see the way you smile with your lips, but do not see the way it doesn't reach your eyes anymore. Your lovely green eyes do not light up as they used to. No one has noticed. But I have. You’ve stopped using gel in your hair, I have also noticed. I like it that way. Your curls are more defined. Keep it like that._

 

_“Here’s something that may help you in the long run: “We cannot change the cards we are dealt, just how we play the hand.” - Randy Pausch._

 

_“You cannot change your past, or the way he treated you. But you cannot let it affect your future.”_

  
    The clock reads _5:19 am_ whenever Harry finally falls asleep, letter clutched in his hand, and unanswered questions floating through his head.


End file.
